Pete and Ev
by Miss Freeze
Summary: Why are Pietro and Evan such violent rivals? Were they always that way? Maybe not...
1. Chapter 1

This story is/was written for friend of mine, Neemers. Enjoy!  
  
A New Family On The Block  
  
Young Evan Daniels jumped up on the back of the living room's blue and magenta couch and looked out the window at the big moving truck that was parked down the street. Mom said a new family was moving in, so far Evan  
hadn't seen anybody except movers.  
  
Wait! There was a minivan pulling into the driveway! A mom, dad, and a  
little boy about his age were getting out! Evan ran to the garage and grabbed his two wheeler and helmet. He was going to go meet the new family.  
  
Pietro Maximoff sighed and watched through the window of the minivan as they drove to their new home. The other houses of the development rolled past him as he tried to guess which one was going to be his. Mom said it  
was going to be swell, that he'd make new friends in no time. Pietro  
sighed. "I doubt it," he grumbled to himself.  
  
The van parked in the driveway of a nice two-story house. The house looked  
just like every other house in the development, built-in garage, steps leading up to the house, the only difference was that his house was brown.  
Mud brown. Such a great color, Pietro thought sarcastically.  
  
He sighed and hopped out of the van, dragging his leather suitcase along after him. A kid about his age was pedaling up to him on a bright blue two  
wheeler.  
  
"Hi!" the boy exclaimed. He had dark skin and dark hair peeking out from under his helmet. He was staring at Pietro like he was some kind of weirdo.  
Pietro didn't like that.  
  
"What do you want?" he snapped, tossing his white head arrogantly.  
  
"Pietro, be nice," his mother warned as she helped his father carry a large bookshelf into the house. She was tall and willowy with long brown hair and  
his father was tall as well, with a bristly mustache and glasses. They weren't his real parents, and that's why he was so angry most of the time.  
Where were his real parents? Why didn't they come to live with him? He  
asked these questions to himself every night when Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff  
would tuck him in a night.  
  
"My name's Evan," the dark boy was explained, breaking Pietro out of his  
reverie. "I live just down the street, wanna be my friend?"  
  
Evan wasn't so sure he really wanted to be this kid's friend, he looked kind of crabby. And his hair was weird, who ever heard of a ten-year-old  
with white hair? Weird.  
  
"Sure," Pietro shrugged. "Hey Mom!" he called through the front door. "I'm going to go ride my bike with my new friend!" Before his mom could answer,  
he raced over to the moving truck and tried to drag out his bike.  
  
Evan jumped into the large truck with him and they both pulled his silver  
bike out and set it onto the sidewalk.  
  
"Man! Your bike is cool!" Evan breathed, running his hand over the sleek yellow lightning bolts that were painted along the sides of the shiny bike.  
"Whoa!"  
  
Pietro strapped on his yellow helmet and grabbed the bike by the  
handlebars. "So where are we going to ride?" he asked.  
  
Evan eyes lit up as he straddled his bike. "To a haunted mansion," he  
whispered secretively before pedaling down the street. 


	2. Chapter 2

Next Chapter!  
  
A Short Ride  
  
Pietro followed Evan as they pedaled out of the development. Pietro watched as the tall maple trees seemed to pop up along the sides of the road, and the houses fade away.  
  
"How far is it?" he asked Evan. They had been pedaling for a while now and the houses seemed to be a thing of the past now. They had been on an old back road for a few miles now.  
  
"Just a little further!" Evan called as they turned into a private dirt road and came upon a huge cast iron gate.  
  
"Whoa," Pietro breathed, staring past the gates at the long gravel driveway up to the enormous mansion. He pressed his face against the bars, staring in awe at the junglelike grounds. "What lives in there?" he asked, turning to Evan as his new friend climbed slowly up the iron gates.  
  
"That's what we're going to find out," Evan assured him as he dropped to the other side of the gate. He gestured to Pietro and turned towards the house. "Come on, climb over."  
  
Pietro chewed on the inside of his lip and looked around. The gates were covered in vines and moss and were getting rusty. The grounds were nearly overgrown with bushes and weeds. The mansion itself looked ready to fall down at any minute.  
  
"Are you sure of this?" he asked nervously.  
  
"Oh come on," Evan grumbled, unstrapping his and throwing it over the top of the gate. "The scary caretaker doesn't come till after dark, come on!"  
  
Pietro gulped and grabbed onto the rusty bars. He hoisted himself up and swung his legs over the gate.  
  
"Watch it!" Evan cautioned as Pietro dropped roughly to the ground on his side of the gate. He sat down quickly when he felt a bolt of pain shoot through his foot.  
  
"Ouch, how do we get back?" he asked, rubbing his sore ankle.  
  
"We climb back over," Evan stated simply, and he turned back to walk through the grounds and up the gravel driveway, swinging his arms and whistling softly.  
  
Pietro grimaced and limped along after his new friend. The place looked spooky, especially since it was getting later in the day. The tall willow trees bordering the driveway looked sad and droopy in the failing light, the overgrown ferns tried to grab at your feet as you walked down the lane, and the dark green moss covering everything made it all the more scary.  
  
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" he hissed as Evan bounded up the steps and reached for the old golden doorknocker. Pietro covered his ears as a loud, ominous "boom!" resounded across the grounds, due to his friend's exuberant pounding.  
  
"What are you kids doing here?" a low, gravelly voice demanded and a short, burly man stepped out from behind the dilapidating wood porch.  
  
"Run!" Evan cried, jumping off the porch and taking off down the driveway to the front gate.  
  
Pietro wasn't as lucky, when he turned to run the caretaker grabbed him by the collar of his wind jacket and spun him around.  
  
"I'd better not see you kids here again, bub," the man growled before shoving Pietro towards the gate. Pietro hit the gravel and got up running, not caring about his skinned knee. 


	3. Chapter 3

Experimenting with colored font... Ahem. To my reviewer so far: Thanks, I'll try to combine some of the chapters, most of them are short. No. This will not be slash nor will anything else I write. There are too many slashes out there, in my opionion.  
  
And now, to the story! I don't have any more paragraph titles so I'll just call them by number.  
  
"Pietro Andrew Maximoff!" his mother was pissed. Not only did he get home after dark, missing his helmet and with rocks in his knees and a twisted ankle, but he had deliberately missed out on dinner. The one thing that Mrs. Maximoff insisted he is present for.  
  
He stared at the linoleum on the kitchen floor as his foster mother stood over him, her pretty blue eyes boiling with rage. His clothes were torn and he smelled of sweat. His new friend would probably be in trouble too. Good for him, Pietro though bitterly. It was his fault anyway.  
  
"Did you here me mister?" his mother snapped, boxing his ears stoutly when he didn't answer her. "I asked you where have you been?"  
  
Pietro looked up at her, his eyes tearing. "We went to the haunted mansion," he told her, summoning what little of his dignity he had left.  
  
"A haunted mansion!" his mom was fuming now, she banged her hand on the blue tiled counter top and glared out the window. "I don't want you to be hanging out with that Daniels boy if he's getting you into this," she told him, looking down at his tear-stained face.  
  
"Go to your room, you don't want to be late for school in the morning." As he passed her to march up the carpeted steps to his room, she gave him a hard smack on the bottom.  
  
If Pietro had thought his mother looked pissed, his father must have been super pissed. When his foster father came home from his new job at the car repair place, he had marched straight up the steps and gave Pietro a little  
lecture about being out after dark and not telling mom where you were  
going. Fists included.  
  
Pietro sat still on his mother's plush vanity chair as she applied powdered foundation to his bruise. "We don't want the school people to think we beat you, okay honey?" she had said in a sickeningly sweet voice that said she  
didn't really care what happened to him, she just cared what the school  
board would think.  
  
He barely had time to shovel down some vanilla yogurt straight from the container when his foster mom dragged him towards the awaiting school bus. He sighed to himself and trudged up the metal stairs and stood at the front  
of the bus, looking around for a seat.  
  
The black padded seats weren't even half full yet. There were a few younger girls sitting it the back seat and a scattering of other kids, but Pietro  
didn't really want to sit with them. 


End file.
